Kyra Cuddy House, MD
by Buzzkill Bunny
Summary: The adventures of House and Cuddy's brilliant daughter Kyra. No, it's not a joke, just a bit of fluff. Chapter 5 Baby You Can Drive My Car
1. Driving in Cars With Boys

Kyra Cuddy-House, M.D.

An idea stolen from Mauigirl, with her permission.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Jerseygrrl34: So? Coming?

Princeton Princess: Only if we take the bus, my dad is on one of his rants.

Jerseygrrl34: K Bus it is. What r u wearing

Princeton Princess: Chanel 5 and a smile

Jerseygrrl34: whateva

Dad approves of Jenna, even though she's still in high school. Says she keeps me grounded. Dad is big on socialization. I have lessons too, skating, tennis, piano. My parents believe in keeping me well rounded.

Jenna likes to go to the mall and see if we can meet boys. It rather goes without saying. We're both cute; hot when we want to be, and the boys around here, well it might be the hormones, but they're kind of easy to manipulate.

I checked my hair, my outfit and the three items of make up I'm allowed to use. I picked lip-gloss, mascara and eye shadow. The one last thing was a blast of perfume; not Chanel 5, but Spirit of Moonflower from The Body Shop. My cousin works there and she gave it to me for my birthday last week. Speaking of my birthday, I would like to lodge an official protest that I did NOT get a car for my birthday. I mean, it would have made so much sense, I need it for work. But Dad believes that I am too young for a car. Harrumph. Old enough to be a doctor, too young for a car?

I can't believe that I'm sixteen already. On one hand, I feel about a million years old, on the other, wasn't I just a child prodigy yesterday? It was hard to believe that I was starting my obstetrics rotation in just one week, nearly half-way through my residency. Where does the time go? I checked myself one more time before I ran down the stairs.

Dad sat in a chair by the door. "Where are you going?" He asked over the headlines in the Star-Ledger.

"Mall." I replied.

"Don't lose any brain cells." He said, returning to the paper.

I rolled my eyes. He thinks he's being so funny. I kissed the top of his head and noticed that he was getting a bit of a bald spot. "Later." I called as the door closed. I walked the couple of blocks to the bus stop and saw Jenna talking to a guy in a convertible Mustang. I snuck up behind her. "BUSTED!" I yelled. Just to get her attention.

Jenna jumped a few feet and then gave me a cold look. I swear, if it hadn't been me she would have said, "_You are so juvenile_." But she didn't.

"So? Who's your friend?" I asked.

"This is Trevor. Trevor, this is my idiot best friend Kyra." She gestured with her hand towards a lovely blond boy.

"Hi." I said smiling. He was cute. I never could keep track of who Jenna was interested in. Personally I think she had the right idea, she waited until they had a thing for her before she bothered to even notice that they existed. He nodded at me and turned his attention back to her. Rude.

"So Jenna, you want me to give you and your friend a ride to the mall? It'll beat the bus." He offered.

It was tempting. It was a beautiful car and he sure was pretty. I gave her a look. I don't like the bus.

"Sure! Shotgun!" She shouted and opened up the door. I squeezed into the back behind her and buckled up.

Trevor turned up the stereo, _Get it Poppin_' throbbed through the sound system as we cruised through the neighborhood. Jenna flipped down the visor so she could apply lip gloss seductively. I put on my sunglasses and sat back, feeling very cool and grown up.

Trevor gunned it as we hit the main drag. At first it was no big deal. But he kept weaving in and out of traffic and running yellow lights. I closed my eyes for a moment because he was freaking me out. I didn't want to be a drag, and I was about to protest when I heard Jenna shriek, "Slow down!" If she was afraid, we were in trouble.

Trevor hot-rodded his way towards the mall and he made a nearly suicidal left-hand turn across three lanes of traffic onto the access road. I was about to offer up a prayer of thanksgiving when I heard him shout, "Shit!" The brakes squealed and there was a sickening crash and thump.

"Asshole!" Jenna screamed at Trevor. She got out of the car and ran to the front. I followed, not so much to see what we hit, but to get the heck out of that death wagon. Jenna had her phone out and was trying to dial 9-1-1 with shaking fingers. She looked up at me, "Do something."

I looked down at the motorcyclist. His bike was tangled wreckage under the front end of the Mustang. Thankfully, I had just finished my ER rotation. "Turn off the engine, Asshole." I called to Trevor. I liked his new nickname; I planned to use it often.

I felt the motorcyclist's legs. His jeans were torn and he had some pretty good road rash, but there didn't seem to be any broken bones. He had been out for a moment, but he came to, groaning and cursing. "Dammit! My bike!" He tried to remove his helmet, but I stopped him.

"Just lay still. The paramedics are coming. I'm a doctor." I informed him.

"No way." I heard Asshole say to Jenna.

"She is, Asshole." She stood away from him, as though she were disgusted. That's why I like Jenna, she has principles.

"What's your name?" I asked the motorcyclist

"Joey." He replied

"Joey what?" I noticed that he had really pretty eyes. Brown and big, like a cow.

"Joey Corelli." He said.

"Where are you Joey?" I continued to check him over as he answered.

"I'm at the mall." I nodded as he continued, "In Princeton, New Jersey."

"What year is it?" I asked, going through the motions.

"2005." He responded.

"I think you're okay, but they're going to take you to the hospital just to make sure. Is there anyone you want us to call?" I asked with my pen primed to write a number on my hand.

"Could you call my folks? They could meet us there." He gave me the number and I jotted it down.

The meat wagon rolled up and the paramedics jumped out. I showed them my hospital ID and introduced myself. "I'm Dr. Cuddy-House. I work at PPTH. He experienced a short black-out upon impact, but regained consciousness within a minute. His pupils are equal and reactive. There don't appear to be any broken bones, although there's some tenderness in the abdomen." I informed them.

One guy chuckled and the other guy elbowed him. "That's House's kid. And Cuddy's kid." He warned.

"Shit." The other guy said, "They mated?"

"Alright. That's enough of that. I said," trying to be business-like. "Let's get going."

"You're coming with us?" The first paramedic asked.

"You got a problem with that?" I asked. My dad taught me this really cool facial expression. It's meant to make a person shrink at least 50 percent. It works pretty well.

"No. No problem. Hop in Doc. What about your friend?" He indicated Jenna.

"She can ride up front with you." I said. "She _likes_ shotgun."

He started to protest, but I flashed him the face again.

Soon we were on our way to PPTH. Leaving Asshole to explain the situation to the cops.

After we had turned our patient over to the capable ER docs, Jenna and I went down to the cafeteria to eat something and to decide how we were getting home. I figured we had a decent shot at running into someone I knew down there.

We were sharing a plate of fries when Chase waved at us from across the room.

"Dork alert." Jenna whispered.

I think she's crazy. Chase is a cutie; he just has no taste in clothing. He wore brown slacks, a blue plaid shirt and a striped tie. I mean, that goes even beyond color-blindness.

"Hello Robert." I said as he approached the table. The guy works for my dad, so I get latitude.

"Hi Squirt. What are you doing here? I thought you were off today." He sat down and helped himself to a fry.

"We got into an accident, so I rode in with the victim. Jenna got to work the siren." I smacked his hand as he went for another pass at the plate.

"Hey." He whined. He's a big baby.

"Get your own." I had an idea. "Oh, wait, no. Go ahead. Have my share." I pushed the plate towards him.

He wolfed another one down, "What's the catch?"

"Give us a ride home." I proposed.

He sat down. "Okay. Do I have to come in or anything?"

"No. Just drive us to our respective houses. It would be nice if you waited to make sure that we got in okay, but it's not mandatory."

Jenna thought for a moment, "Could you run us by Macy's? They're having a sale. Maybe there's something for you." Trust her to push her luck. Did she just bat her eyelashes at him?

Chase grabbed my cup and sipped out of my straw. I didn't know if I should be skived out or delighted. I decided to let him keep it. "I'll give you a ride home. I'm not going near that mall."

Jenna pouted.

Chase laughed, "Nice try. Have a heart, I've worked all day."

I looked at my watch, it was nearly five. "Crap. I'm supposed to be home anyway. But you have to let us give you a makeover one of these days."

"Yeah, maybe. Come on, I've got a date." He hustled us out to his car. He's a young guy, a doctor, you'd think he'd have something interesting, but no, just a Honda. I thought he was a trust-funder, but I guess that's part of being super-rich, you don't care what people think about your car.

I'll be allowed to buy my own car when I'm 18. I'm saving money towards that. Sometimes I think I'll buy a Lexus, gold, with tan leather, or maybe red, with white leather. I'll get a really great sound system and a moon-roof. But then I think I want a roadster, a convertible or something like that.

Anyway my phone rang. I looked at the number. Dad. Crap. "Hello?" I answered. I held the phone away from my ear; I knew he was going to be pissed.

"Why are the police here?" He said with that _I'll kill you when company's gone_ tone to his voice.

"Oh. Uh. The accident." I said, rather incoherently.

"An accident. On the bus?" Sarcasm. There's a switch.

"No. In some asshole's car. We went with the victim to the hospital. Chase is bringing us home, we're almost there." In fact we were pulling up to the house. There was a cop car in the driveway. I gave Chase a thank-you peck on the cheek. "Yes, I'll bring Jenna in too."

Dad stood on the stoop with the cordless. He leaned on his cane and gave me his best beleaguered look. You know, the whole, _my teenaged daughter is torturing me_, face. I rolled my eyes. He can be such a drama queen sometimes. We were standing on the lawn when he gestured with the phone to Chase and called, "You! You come in here too!"

"Daddy!" I said, okay, maybe I whined a little, "he just gave us a ride home."

Chase looked like he cursed as he killed the engine and got out. We all walked up to the door like we were going to the electric chair. He handed the phone to Jenna. "Call your mom and tell her that you're fine, but that you have to give a statement to the police. Then tell her we'll give you a ride home."

He put his hand on Chase's chest and kept him outside. Rude.

There were two cops. One took me into the dining room and the other took Jenna into the living room. I heard Chase's car start up and drive away. I wonder what Dad had said to him. I mean, he only gave us a ride home. He was doing me a _favor_. Oh well, he can be unreasonable sometimes.

I gave my version of the story to the cop. There wasn't much to tell, considering that I had my eyes closed at the time of the incident. He seemed really interested in my being a doctor. So we talked about that for a few minutes. The other cop came in and it appeared that they had what they needed from us. They took off and we were alone. I wondered where Dad went.

Jenna grabbed a soda out of the fridge, "Share with me?" she asked.

"Yeah. So where do you think Dad and Chase went?" I filled glasses with ice.

She poured half the can into her glass and passed the rest to me. "Probably to rant at Trevor, or his parents, or both." She said, sticking her finger in the glass to make the foam go down.

I employed the Dartmouth method and tilted the glass so the soda could run down the side, "Oh crap. You're right. He's really pissed. I'll probably be grounded until Christmas." How depressing.

Jenna laughed, "It's not like you have much of a life anyway. How would being grounded be different from any other day for you?"

"Shut up, Floozy. I have a life." I was lying. I don't have a life. I haven't had a date since my Bat Mitzvah.

"You _don't_. Too bad, I was going to have Trevor bring you on my date with Matt so we could double. But you can't date an asshole, so I guess I'll have to go with plan B. You have to ask Chase." She tipped the glass back and an ice cube slid out and hit her in the nose.

I blushed. _Damn her_. How did she know I was crushing on him? "I'm not asking him. I have to work with him."

She had the nerve to laugh at me, "Not even. Nice try though. You have a lot in common with Chase, he's a doctor, you're a doctor. He's cute, you're cute. What's the problem?"

I began ticking off the list on my fingers, but I could have extended to my toes, "First of all, he's an adult, I'm technically a child. Secondly, he has a girlfriend, or girlfriends. Third, he thinks of me as a friend, if he thinks of me at all. And items four through one-hundred: Dad. I don't even want to think about it." It was hopeless.

"He likes you. I can tell. You're sixteen now, in Europe you've reached the age of consent. In New Jersey you're a late-bloomer. He's not all that much older than you are. Don't they have an abbreviated school system in Australia? How old is he anyway?" Her stomach rumbled and we both giggled.

"Hungry?" I asked, happy to change the subject.

"Always. Is your dad feeding us?" She slid her glass to the middle of the table.

The kitchen door opened and Dad reappeared with bags from the Chinese place.

"I guess so." I jumped up to grab plates and I saw that Mom was right behind him. Crap.

He set the bags on the table. "We'll eat first, we'll kill you later."

We inhaled the mu shu, knowing that retribution was at hand.

After dinner we sat at the table and were treated to a tandem lecture. Dad started. "So you got into a car with a person you don't even know?"

"I knew him." Jenna interjected.

"That's not enough. Besides, don't you have enough sense not to get into the car of someone with obvious inadequacy issues?"

"Apparently not." Jenna said, chastened.

"Dad, that's not fair. Jenna knows him from school and other than the fact that he turned out to have something to prove, there's no known harm." I tried to reason with him. He likes an intelligent argument.

Mom tapped her fingernails on the table; it's a creepy sound, "Let's just get something straight. You don't get into anyone's car…period. No guys _you_ know from school," pointing at Jenna, "No guys you meet in bars," she fixed me with a stare, "Yes, I know about that. No guys you find at the mall. And if you think that there might be a loophole, there isn't."

"But what about Chase? He brought us home." Jenna chimed in.

"Chase…" Both Mom and Dad started to say. "Go ahead," Mom said, giving Dad the floor.

"Chase is a colleague. He's our," he motioned between himself and Mom, "employee. He's the exception that proves the rule."

"Have you lost your mind?" Mom asked, "Not Chase either." She had turned to emphasize her point with us, then she turned to Dad. "Not Chase." She said, lifting an eyebrow that was her code for, _I'll explain it to you later_.

Crap. Crap. Crap. Now Mom was suspicious. Great.

Dad opened his mouth to protest, "But…"

"Not. Chase. Either." And that was the end of that. Mom's Jimmy Choo shod foot came down on the pronouncement. "Oh, and you," she pointed to me, "Are grounded for two weeks. Home and work only. No mall. No movies. Nothing."

"You," She pointed to Jenna, "are going home now." She got up and indicated that Jenna should gather her stuff and follow her out to the car. She kissed and hugged me. "I'm proud of how you helped the patient and I'm glad you're safe."

We watched as they drove down the street. Dad turned to me and said, "I have to worry about Chase?"

I smacked him in the arm, "As if!" I don't think I fooled him though.


	2. Win Some, Lose Some

Win Some, Lose Some.

I'm already bored. ER was cool, compared to this. Well, ER is cool compared to everything. When people think about becoming doctors they have no idea how much thought they have to put into it. I'm not talking about the training or the education; that goes without saying.

In our school we've got two years to get through five mandatory rotations: Surgery, internal medicine, psychiatric, pediatrics and ob/gyn. You can add 'elective' rotations. Things like: ER, orthopedics, neurology, family medicine, dermatology. There are more, but you get the idea.

I still have surgery, psych and pedes to go. I've been doing filler. There are drawbacks to being very young and in Med School. I've been avoiding pedes because it's such a cliché. I mean, a kid, dealing with other kids. I'm supposed to relate to them and stuff like that. Not so much.

Think about it, I don't have that much in common with kids. Sure, I have a few friends, but Jenna's my 'keep me connected' friend. We have an agreement; she doesn't ask me to do her homework, I don't try to discuss French literature with her. It works for us. Our topics are the typical things you'd expect. Lip gloss, music, movies and boys. We rarely get philosophical and when we do, we change the subject quickly.

So here I am in ob/gyn, watching babies being born. Actually, I've delivered a few. And aside from the miracle of birth, yadda, yadda, yadda, I don't have a lot to say on the subject.

Most of the mothers vacillate on whether or not they want an epidural, you know, the shot in the spine that helps with the pain. Are they stupid? The pain is unreal. I want to go on record. Say what you want about 'natural childbirth' I doubt very seriously that a man would take you up on a 'natural appendectomy' if he were given a choice. Even just one-hundred years ago the main cause of death in young women was childbirth, _that's _natural. My opinion? Take the drugs.

So these ladies come in with their husbands, or boyfriends, or life-partners. They go through labor, which is no picnic. It's really long and really boring. They try the breathing; they get the back rubs and in general suffer for hours. Then you get the birth, which is gooier and messier than you can imagine. Don't even get me started with episiotomies. What do they get when it's all over? A screaming, poop machine.

I hope my parents aren't disappointed, but there's NO WAY I'm ever having kids. It's disgusting.

I'm sitting with Mr. and Mrs. Steamboat. Actually their name is Stephenson, but she's making such an issue of her breathing I can't help but think of her as a Steamboat. _Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh_. She's huffing away. As soon as she pops out her little ankle-biter I can take off and go home. I have a bath to take and my shows on Tivo to watch.

The resident, Dr. Collier is monitoring her and he keeps making faces. Personally, I think Collier is a perv. He loves to name the trim on the uh…trim that he sees. He tones it down around me. Either because I'm female, or I'm a kid. I don't really care; I just don't want to hear about Brazil, landing strips, mohawks or afros. Yikes.

Normally he's all smarmy with the couples, assuring them that they're doing fine, that everything is progressing. In this case though, they weren't and it wasn't. I checked the fetal monitor and it seemed like their baby was struggling. Collier had paged their regular GYN, but she was on vacation and her back-up was in the process of delivering triplets.

One thing that I've learned is that you never, ever, try to tell a resident anything. They have authority issues. I looked at the RN and he looked at me. We agreed. This needed to be a cesarean, in the next five minutes.

Collier decided to call it himself. "Mrs. Stephenson, I think we need to do a cesarean."

"Is everything all right?" She asked. Her husband squeezed her hand.

He smiled reassuringly. "It looks like your son is having some problems and you're only four centimeters dilated."

Her husband looked at her and tried to calm her down, "Honey, you've been in labor for over twenty-four hours. I think we need to do this."

She started crying. Always a bad situation. I called the anesthesiologist so we could get her started. The RN confirmed the operating room and we started rolling down the hall. That's when the monitors went crazy. Buzzing, beeping, it looked like the baby's heart had stopped.

I might not like kids, but that doesn't mean I want bad things happening to them. We all ran towards the suite. The surgeon was scrubbing, but he might need to cut it short.

The next few minutes were kind of like on television, except there was blood and instruments falling on the floor and all kinds of chaos. This lady wasn't even a high risk pregnancy.

In the end, the baby was stillborn. That's a major bummer. It's beyond a bummer, but I'm working on distancing myself from my patients, so I don't want to dwell on it. Luckily I could slink out; Collier had to actually speak to the father. I didn't want to be anywhere near that conversation.

I walked down to Dad's office. It was only six, so I expected him to still be there. I found him reading up on something from the CDC. "Hey, ready to go?" He asked me, tucking the magazine into his computer bag.

"More than ready. Don't these hours violate child labor laws?" I sank into his chair while he gathered his stuff.

"Technically, you're not a child," He reminded me.

"I feel very childlike today. Bad things happened. I want my teddy." I did actually. That's what sucks about being a genius. You're expected to have emotions at the same level as your IQ. It doesn't work that way.

"I'll tell you what. I'll cook you and Mom a nice, dinner. And then after you have your bath and brush your teeth, I'll tuck you in and read you a story. Would you like that?" He paused to turn out the light

"Daddy." I whined, but it sounded extremely appealing.

It was close to seven-thirty by the time we ate. I moved the food around on my plate. I tried to eat, but nothing tasted good. I kept thinking about that poor family. How did it feel to be in a room with a lady who _did_ have a baby? That would suck. I hoped that they put her in a private room.

Mom's eyes were on me. It seemed like she was waiting for me to say something. "What?"

"I asked how your day was. I'm guessing by your expression that it wasn't so good. Either that, or you suddenly don't like meatloaf." She smiled wryly.

My not liking meatloaf was ridiculous. It was my favorite. Especially Dad's meatloaf. "No." I put a piece in my mouth and forced myself to chew. "Delicious."

"Want to talk about it?" Mom patted my hand.

I took a big sip of water. "Nothing. A lady came in today and she had problems and the baby died." Mom looked at Dad. This wasn't the first time that I had been around someone who died. It happens a lot in a hospital. During my two months in ER we lost a lot of people. I'm okay with it, up to a point. "I guess it was more sad than usual because he never even had a chance to be born. And his poor mom, she went all the way through pregnancy, and labor and then, nothing. That's got to be the worst part." I put my fork on my plate.

"It is sad." Mom commiserated. "But it does happen. It's no one's fault."

"I know. But you wonder why God would let someone get so close like that and then take it away." That always bothered me. Death I understood, but not suffering. Maybe that's why I was avoiding pedes; who wants to see kids suffer?

"You don't have to accept it." Dad said. "You can fight to be better. Doctors who accept death and suffering as inevitable are bad doctors."

Dad's always been a bit strident about healing. But he's the best, so I guess he can be uncompromising.

"I'm going to soak for a while." I said, getting up. I felt all beat up.

"I'll check in on you later." Dad said.

I filled the tub with hot water and blue bath oil. It smelled good and felt even better. This definitely wasn't something that I could talk about with Jenna. She's a great friend, but she's miles away from stuff like this. I stayed in there until the water cooled.

I got into my ugliest, comfiest set of jammies. When I got into my room Dad was there, sitting on the edge of the bed with Curious George. The one where he goes to the hospital. "Remember how much you loved this one?" He said, holding up the book.

"You are _so_ stupid." I said.

"I'm known for my stupidity." He stood up so I could get under the covers. Then he made a big show of tucking everything around me. "Get your arms out, or else you'll bet tucked in tight as a mummy."

I loosened my arms and sunk into the bed. It felt great, all the tension and sadness melted out of my body. "Thanks Dad."

He sat down and opened up the book, "_This is George. He lived with his friend, the man with the yellow hat_."

He read the whole book to me and turned out the light. Truthfully, it was exactly what I needed. He kissed my forehead. "I'll send your mom in."

I settled myself in the bed and wiggled my toes. He was always too tight on the toes.

"You really going to sleep so early?" She asked. There was still a streak of light peeking through my curtains.

"I've been up since five. Besides, early day again tomorrow. More babies." I yawned, I really was tired.

"I want to make sure that you don't dwell."

"I won't. Nothing to dwell on. But one of these days, I'm going to make the wrong call and something bad will happen. Like with Dad and his leg. That's going to be hard to live with." I closed my eyes.

"True. I think we've all made mistakes. Even your father. What am I saying? Especially your father. Make your peace with it and keep your insurance payments up to date." She kissed my cheek and put her cool hand on it. "You're doing fine."

"Thanks, Dean." I rolled over as she closed my door.


	3. How I Met Your Father

**How I Met Your Father**

**Author's Note: **Sorry about the anonymous review thing. I hadn't realized that was the default. I've changed it, so y'all can leave a review, even if you prefer to be anonymous. Flame away if you're so inclined.

**Author's Note 2:** Thanks for the feedback Mauigirl, it's _your_ story. I hope this satisfies your request.

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I'll admit it. It was a too cold for tennis. But Mom and I are stubborn and frankly neither of our schedules had permitted us to have a game for such a long time, we decided to stick it out, even though we were freezing. Not that we'd tell Dad.

Mom won the first game, but I beat her in the second. Probably because she couldn't feel her hands. We ran back to the car and she started it up and blasted the heat. "Brr. Okay, _that_ was fun. So what do you want to do now?"

She looked at her watch, "Let's have an early lunch and do some shopping."

"Okay. I need some stuff for work." I did. I think people were getting tired of seeing me in the same three pairs of pants. That's a real problem for me; finding stuff to wear that's appropriate for work, fits my figure and doesn't look like I've been playing dress-up in my mom's clothes.

"There's no dress code." Mom said simply.

"I know, but I want to look nice. I mean, there are some doctors there, I'm not naming names, who look silly in their clothes." I was thinking of Cameron. She wears these vest-things and they are hideous on her. Bad colors. Bad style.

"Chase?" Mom guessed.

"Well, that goes without saying, but that's not who I meant." I took a drink from my water bottle.

"Oh. Doctors aren't known for their fashion sense." Mom loved clothes and wore all kinds of designer outfits. Good thing she's in administration. I'd freak if someone puked all over my five-hundred dollar shoes.

"Yeah, but is it too much trouble to put something together that at least looks like it matches? Daddy sets a bad example. All those fossilized concert T-shirts and then a regular shirt over them. What is that?" I realized I was hungry, "Let's eat first, I'm starving."

"Your dad has his own style." She smiled and disappeared for a minute. I think it's cute that they're still hot for each other, but it's not something I want to witness. If you know what I mean.

"So tell me again how Felix and Oscar got together that fateful night seventeen years ago." I never get tired of this story.

We parked and headed in. I hate this mall. It's probably the same dumb mall that you have in your town. Only Macy's is worth going into. I'd rather go to King of Prussia; they have Nordstrom, Bloomingdales and Neiman's. But it is over an hour away, without traffic.

We were seated in a booth and I studied the menu while Mom told me the story.

"Well, I was fresh out of Penn and trying to decide where to do my residency. Your Dad was doing a fellowship at PPTH. I liked Philadelphia, and my friends and family were there, but I wanted some place quieter and it seemed like a good compromise." She stopped so that we could place our order.

"Go on." I encouraged her, hoping that they'd haul and get my food out in a hurry.

"You've heard this at least five-thousand times," she protested, stirring a sweetener into her coffee.

"Five-thousand and one. So what?" I said, sipping my lemonade. I love it when they put that sugary stuff on the rim of the glass.

She sighed, but I could tell she wanted to tell it again. "Fine. So I go to the orientation and he's there, probably under pain of death, as a presenter." She gave me another look, but continued, "I sat down and the first thing I noticed was how blue his eyes were." She drifted for a second.

"Mom! That's such a cliché!" I rolled my equally blue eyes. It's true though, it's cool to have eyes this color. The only thing cooler would be to have violet eyes like Elizabeth Taylor.

"So? You've got 'em too. I expect that you'll be breaking hearts just like he did."

"Right." That's hard to believe. I'm still a social freak, but I hope to grow out of it soon.

"You will. Take my word for it." The waiter brought our soup and we began eating. I was starting to warm up.

Tomato basil. Yum. "So go on," I kvetched.

"My first thought was, _nice looking guy_. He was freshly shaved and he wore a white shirt with a very skinny black tie. Fashionable for the day. Oh, and he'll kill me for telling you, but he had a mullet."

"Ew!" I dropped my spoon. This wasn't the first time she had told me, but it's part of the story. She discloses the mullet, I squeal.

"It was cute at the time and his was lush and curly," she ate more soup, "I tried to sit close enough for him to see me, but not too close to be obvious. The board introduced everyone, and there were some speeches, and then House stood up." She still called him House. Never Greg. Not that I know of anyway. "We didn't have PowerPoint back then, so he used transparencies. The first thing he did was drop them all. There must have been about thirty of them. Knowing what I know now, they were just random things; he never bothered to put together a presentation." We laughed; it's such a dad-thing to do.

"So it was a ruse?" I had finished my soup and was using the bread to sop up the last bits of goodness.

"Yes. And a good one. I'm going to use it myself one of these days." She says that, but you know she's too much of a perfectionist to actually do it, besides, to scuttle a PowerPoint; you'd have to destroy a laptop. "So he just looked at everyone and said, 'Who are you kidding? You'd sell your grandmother to get a position here. We're just here to weed out the psychos.' He looked right at me. God help me, I couldn't help myself, I answered him back. 'Judging by the looks of things, it's not a very good screening process.' I wish you could have seen the look on his face." She laughed at the memory.

"So is that when he asked you out?" I pushed my empty and nearly spotless bowl towards the table's edge to make room for my salad.

"No. That happened _after_ the presentation. Some of the selection committee were speaking to me after, and I had pretty much decided that PPTH was where I wanted to do my residency. I think that _they_ decided that if I could handle House, that I could handle anything, so we were just chatting. House grabbed my arm and said, 'I think this young lady owes me an apology.' And he yanked me away." She forked up some salad and I waited for her to chew.

"So that's when he took you in the hall?" I prompted her. This is the best part.

"Yes. He took me in the hall. He didn't say anything for a moment, just _looked_ at me. So I said to him, 'you're not really expecting me to apologize are you?' He let his gaze go down a bit. I was wearing a white blouse, not unlike most of my blouses." That means that it was cut down to _here_. Then he looked into my eyes. 'No. I expect you to let me get you drunk though. I'll bet you're fun drunk.' I think that's when I swallowed my gum. 'it's a regular party in my pants', it wasn't meant to be suggestive, but it came out that way. Then we went for a ride in his car. A week later we were living together. A year later you were born."

"So when are you guys getting married?" They had been promising me for years that I could be the flower girl.

"I think you should give up on that. We're just not the marrying kind." She had finished her salad and motioned for the check.

"So you won't get all hypocritical if I decide to do the same thing? I mean, you broke about six of your own rules right there." I cut a piece of tomato and put it in my mouth. Yuk. Tomatoes out of season are pointless.

"No. I'm going to be a HUGE hypocrite. Count on it. Now let's go get some outfits." We got up and went to Macy's.

We shopped for a few hours and got home at around four. Dad was playing the piano for the cat. George sat on the ottoman politely listening to Gershwin. George is incredibly cool that way. "So? Leave anything for the ugly girls?" he asked as we schlepped our bags down the hall.

"Nope. Bought out the whole store." I called. "Want to see? I can do a fashion show!" I threw my bags on my bed.

"No! Hell, No! So? Isn't it time for you to practice?" He leaned in the doorway with a glass of soda, or something. That's his way of saying that he wants me to play for him.

We went back in the living room and I sat at the bench. He plopped down on a chair near George.

"Any requests?" I asked. It's a game we play. The Gershwin songbook was right there.

He thought for a minute. "Someone to Watch Over Me."

"Am I accompanying you?" I started warming up.

"Not really my key. Accompany yourself." He suggested. He would; the song is brutal to sing. I've got one of those vocal ranges, good enough for school chorus, not good enough for much of anything else.

I started the introduction. Although it had been a while since I had played, I knew this one well enough to do from memory. _I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood, I know that I could, always be good, to one who'll watch over me… _The bear in this song is that it's syncopated. You've got to get the stresses just right or it runs away from you. I sort of felt like a lounge singer, taking requests. I needed a giant brandy snifter with dollar bills in it.

I finished it off, and while it was far from perfect, I was pleased. I mean, I'm not a professional or anything. We just play for fun. "Sir, is there anything else I should play for you?"

"I've Got a Crush On You. You could think of someone while you sing." He smirked at me. He's worse than a child some days.

"You're over the line Greg." I said. That never fails to put him in his place.

"Maybe so, but sing it anyway. I like the way you sound on it." He closed his eyes and leaned back.

_I've got a crush on you sweetie-pie, all the day and night-time too_… Just so you know, I did NOT think of Chase. I mean, what is the point of that? Besides, he's just pretty to look at. Nice enough I suppose. But could he really be my boyfriend? No. Let's get real. Then I hit a real boner of a note.

"Mind on your music?" Dad said from his seat.

I picked it up from the bridge. "Just a slip of the fingers."

"Uh hmmm. So it won't matter that I've invited the team to dinner tonight." Again, I faltered.

"You know, you could go to hell for that kind of thing." I reminded him, as I played. "You shouldn't tease me."

"You don't believe in hell. I don't either. And I'm not teasing."

"You could go to Newark. Newark's real enough." I said, trying to fill my voice with malice.

He chuckled. "True. But that doesn't alter the fact that there's lasagna in the oven."

Lasagna. Crap. He wasn't kidding. I was still in my tennis whites and my hair…when was the last time I shampooed it? I stopped playing. "I'm taking a shower. And I'm inviting Jenna."

I left him there muttering to the cat, "she's no fun at all, is she George?"


	4. Company Manners

**Company Manners**

I ran around like a fool. I tidied up my room by shoving everything under the bed. I called Jenna and begged her to come over for dinner. I told her Wilson and Foreman would be there. She likes them both; they make her feel cosmopolitan and worldly.

I shot into the shower. The shampoo felt good as I rubbed it into my scalp. Apple. I like it when things smell fruity.

Now comes the hard part, what do you wear for dinner when you're just lounging around the house? I kind of wish that I had those lounging pajamas, like old thirties movie stars have. Silky and sexy, trimmed in marabou feathers or something. Think Gwen Stefani in her 'It's My Life' video. Actually, I wish I had a life where it would make sense to wear something like that.

I went for my stand-by. Yoga pants, a T-shirt and a sweater. I had a really cute pink angora one, you know, it buttons with one button right under the bust. I looked at my pedicure. Luckily it still looked good from when Jenna spent the night and painted my toes for me.

Now let's get something straight about my crush right now. I know the difference between appropriate and inappropriate. Chase is thirty. Clearly inappropriate. But really, who am I going to date? My biggest fear is that they'll comb the tri-state area looking for a guy my age in roughly the same position to set me up with. Think Doogie Howser. I wish. No. Guy geniuses have a tendency to be nerds with no social skills. A sweeping generalization to be sure; and I'll be happy to eat my words when you introduce me to someone who doesn't fit the description.

A short history of people I've dated and/or kissed. I met David in Hebrew class. He used to try to crack me up when I was reading my haftorah. I'll tell you a secret. I was super busy in school then, and I didn't have a bunch of time to devote to my reading, so we picked the shortest reading possible, so I wouldn't have so much to study. Cheesy, huh?

So we would study and talk. We agreed that I'd be his date at his party and he would be my date at my party. It was great and for one little time in my life, I felt like the other kids socially. But really, what are you doing at thirteen? Kissing and touching stuff. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to touch.

His mom remarried and they moved to Hoboken. We haven't spoken since. Jenna sets me up sometimes, but high school guys are so…juvenile. Either they're total goofs, or they're MUCH too intense. One guy got all wrapped around the axel over Jenna. He used to get high and call her, professing his love and begging her to go out with him. . Her parents made her change her number. Creepy.

Jenna seems to think that Chase would be a good boyfriend for me. I think a fourteen year age difference speaks for itself. Jenna loves Russell Crowe, so I think most of it is an accent thing.

Dad is being a total jerk about Chase. First of all, he's been punishing Chase for months over something that happened at work. Secondly, he likes to turn the heat up under people to see what the reaction will be. I wouldn't put it past him to have planned this dinner party just to see how we'll all react. Dad's an ass on a regular basis.

But it sucks to be me. I see the guy frequently at work and he's so damn cute and friendly. I think it's a cultural thing. I hear Australians are super laid-back and that they flirt with everyone. Luckily I don't see much of him, so I'm not in too much danger. Except that I find myself fantasizing about him. I try to tell myself not to, but what else am I going to think about? Oh well, it's harmless.

I heard the doorbell; it was Jenna, coming early to help me.

"Hey!" She flopped on my bed, "So do you think your folks will let us drink wine tonight?"

"No, Floozy. No wine. So what did you do today?" I turned on the stereo and listened to Mariah wail.

"Soccer in the morning. Then I had to get some material for a project in home ec." She waited for me to say something.

I giggled. Home ec. That's the one thing that sucks. I missed out on that whole 'electives' thing in high school. "Home ec? They still have that? God. What do you do in that class?"

"Mostly we just screw around. Once a week we cook something. Sometimes we talk about budgets. Crap like that." She blew a bubble and then popped it.

"That's a class?" It seemed improbable that thirty kids would spend an hour every day doing something like that and have it be called education.

"Yeah. I also have yearbook and P.E. which is really just soccer practice." She sat up. "Hey, I heard a car door."

"Is that a super-power?" I hadn't heard anything, but I walked over to the window and there was Chase, getting out of his Honda. He hair fluffed in the evening breeze. "Oh, come look at the pretty."

Jenna got up and looked out the window with me. "Very nice. So? Are you going to do something about it?"

"No. And I wish you'd stop. Let's just say that I admire his many fine attributes. The man is thirty. Thirty. There's no way to make that okay." I sighed. More's the pity.

"Thirty? Are you kidding?" She sat back on the bed. "You're right. He's too old. So what's wrong with him? How come he doesn't have a girlfriend?"

I shrugged, who knows why gorgeous people aren't coupled up. I mean, look at celebrities. They're rich and beautiful; and their personal lives are total train wrecks. "Beats me. Hey, Jenna, so since we're ruling him out, what kind of guy should I be with? Where am I going to meet him? _How_ am I going to meet him? Am I doomed to be alone?" I despaired of ever finding a boyfriend.

"You're too fabulous to be alone forever. It's just not your time right now. You've got to wait until the guys catch up with you. Right now, you're just too…" she made a hand movement that showed a pedestal of sorts, "guys our age can't appreciate you, and you're too young for an older guy." She thought for a moment, "Twenty-two."

"Twenty-two?" Twenty-two what?

"You'll be twenty-two and guys will be falling all over themselves to be with you. They'll have gotten over that awkward stage and they'll be out of school themselves. That's when it'll all start happening for you. You got any gum? Mine's all chewed out."

I opened the desk drawer where I keep my stash. "Twenty-two? I've got to wait that long? But I'll miss all the fun!" I did. I missed everything. Parties. Toilet papering houses. Team sports. All of it. "Now I'm depressed."

Jenna rubbed my fuzzy sweater, "Yeah, that sucks. For what it's worth, when I go away to college, you can come visit me and we can go to parties together."

"Really? Can I? Can we say that I'm your cousin? Can I pretend to be visiting from another school and just lie about everything? That way, it won't seem like I missed so much." She is my best-friend for a reason. Jenna rocks! I hugged her. "You're too good to me."

"Yeah, yeah," she said, stuffing her mouth with cinnamon gum.

"Girls! I need help!" Dad yelled from down the hall.

"Let's go, he just wants to see me squirm with Chase in the room." We got up off the bed and walked towards the front of the house.

"Oooh. I have an idea! Let's tell them I'm setting you up with someone."

"Isn't that kind of juvenile?" I asked as we went into the kitchen for our assignments.

"We _are _juvenile. But it's true. I found someone for you to date. I doubt seriously that he's true boyfriend material but if you play your cards right you can be his prom date." Right to the heart of the matter. I would have _much_ less to complain about if I could go to prom. That's sort of the hinge to the genius deal. If you move forward with your education, beyond your years, you miss milestones. Middle school dances, football games and prom. Prom is the big one. Most people will talk about their prom dates for their entire lives. Kind of like weddings, only without having to involve your family.

"Shut up! I would kill to go to prom." Dad had handed me a pile of dishes to put on the table. Jenna was in charge of transporting the salad.

"Prom?" He asked as we went into the dining room.

I put the dishes on the table and Jenna played with the salad tongs. Dad had followed us out. "Stop that. You'll mess up the decorations."

She looked into the bowl. "You mean the tomatoes?"

He rolled his eyes. "Explain what you mean by prom."

"Dad. It's theoretical. Prom isn't for another, what, seven months?" I looked to Jenna.

She shrugged, "at least. But there's Homecoming, that's only a couple of weeks away. We could start there and work our way up."

"So let me get this straight. You haven't even met this guy, but you will. And if you like him, you'll manipulate him so that you can go to dances with him?" He leaned against the door post.

"Whoa, you're _way_ ahead of yourself there Slim." I pushed past him to get the trivets.

"Yeah, Dr. House, we're in the preliminary stages of our strategy." Jenna said between chews. She tried to blow a bubble, but it wasn't bubble gum, so it just snapped.

"Strategy? Girls, you're scaring me." He went into the kitchen to poke his lasagna, which was resting on the stove top.

"Dating is war, Dr. House. A girl needs to be prepared. This looks delicious, when are we eating?" She tried to pick at a piece of cheese that clung to the casserole.

He smacked her hand away, "When the other guests get here. Still have that hollow leg?"

Jenna put her gum in the trash. "Very funny. I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry." He handed her a gorgonzola stuffed olive from the relish tray. "Start with this."

She popped it in her mouth, "yum," she said as she chewed.

He walked out of the kitchen with a dark look on his face. He went into the living room where Mom and Chase were talking about something work-related.

"What's his problem?" Jenna asked, picking over other things on the relish tray.

I got the container of artichoke hearts out the fridge and handed her a fork. "The usual. He's having a hard time with my budding sexuality."

She nearly choked on a mouthful, "don't do that!"

"Come on; all dads have issues. I think he suddenly remembered that he had sex with his prom date." I helped myself to an artichoke heart with my fingers.

Her head involuntarily turned towards the door, "no way."

"Way. It was the seventies. Everyone was having sex all over the place. They didn't have to worry about HIV. If a girl was on the pill it was a license to be a slut."

Just then Mom walked in. "This is a LOT more interesting than the MRI suite."

"I would hope so." Jenna said, finally getting that piece of cheese.

"What did you say that freaked him out so badly?" Mom snagged an olive.

"Jenna's setting me up with a guy. We might have mentioned that he could be a potential prom date." I replenished the relish tray and fluffed everything up so that it wouldn't look like wolves had attacked it.

Mom picked up the tray and headed for the dining room. "Is that all? I thought you might have come out to him or something."

"I'm saving that for his birthday." I think I heard her chuckle.

Cameron was the last to arrive, so it was nearly eight before we sat down to eat. Conversation drifted between work-related things and general conversation. Jenna and talked to each other when the rest of them would go off on some tangent about one of their patients. On one hand, that's probably the reason they came over, so I can't complain too much about it, but on the other it's really rude to those of us who are uninvolved.

After we had served ourselves Jenna leaned over, and in one of those voices that's meant to sound like it's private, but it's really meant to be overheard, said, "so don't you want to know about him?"

Truthfully, I was so interested in the whole 'date' idea that I forgot that the activity is attached to a person. "Sure. Tell me about him." I didn't hold out high hopes. Not Klingon would be a good start.

"His name is Blake." She put a mouthful of lasagna in her mouth.

"So his mom _wants_ him to be gay?" I waited for her to finish so she could explain this name to me.

"Don't be like that. He's really nice. Some kind of music prodigy, so you have that in common."

"How do you know him?" The others were talking about vasculitis. How does vasculitis come up at the dinner table?

"He's Kiley's brother." Kiley was one of her teammates.

"So why haven't I ever heard of him before?" If he was such a prize, it seemed ominous that we had never been introduced.

"Truth?" She said, leaning in even closer.

"Good place to start." I leaned in, our heads were nearly touching.

"He just went through a growth spurt." We giggled at the word 'spurt.'

"This makes a difference?" That couldn't be the entire story.

"Imagine this: frizzy hair, bad skin and chest high." She waited for the mental image to materialize.

"Ew!" I recoiled. Wouldn't you?

"Not to worry. Hair cut, dermatologist and growth spurt. He's fresh on the market after being the object of ridicule. There's stigma attached, but you don't care because you don't go to our school." She smiled confidently. "A nice man, a good catch, right?" She quoted from _Fiddler on the Roof_, our favorite movie. When we were eight.

"I don't know…" sure, I wasn't in the position to be picky, but surely this couldn't be the sum total of my dateability.

"Fret not. I have photos. I'll show you after dinner." She sat back and took a massive bite of lasagna.

"What the hell, it's a date. He might be nice. He might have nice friends." I decided to be philosophical.

"Great attitude." She agreed.

"So who's _your_ date?" I braced myself. Ever since she developed, Jenna could afford to be picky. If she was dating a guy, he maxed out at least five out of seven key indicators.

She grinned. "That's the best part. Kiley's _other _brother. The one who's already cute."

"Okay. I insist on seeing pictures." It was only fair.

We had mostly finished dinner. If we stayed at the table we would have only been picking at garlic bread and playing football with the olives. We took our plates into the kitchen and stacked them in the dishwasher. I started to organize everything so that we could clean it up quickly.

Back in my room Jenna had opened her bag and fished out her phone. She brought up a couple of fuzzy shots of a guy. Decent-looking enough I suppose. No one would be casting him as the lead in _Phantom _any time soon. "So? Are we doubling next week?"

"Sure. I haven't been to a movie in forever." I reached behind me for a magazine; I wanted to show her an outfit in there.

"You know what they say…" She turned the stereo on. It was Mariah again. How many times are they going to play that song?

"What?"

"Un clavo saca otro clavo," she intoned in flawless Spanish.

"Something about nails?" My Spanish was rusty. Dad was the language guy around here anyway.

"One nail drives out another." She translated for me.

Just as I was about to respond I heard my dad call down the hall, "Oh Kyra! Chase has something he wants to ask you!"

Jenna and I exchanged looks.


	5. Baby You Can Drive My Car

**Baby You Can Drive My Car**

Do you ever feel like you've been caught red-handed at something? That's how I felt when my dad yelled for me to come talk to Chase. Honestly, I wouldn't put it past him to twist Chase's arm to make him take me on a date. How humiliating would _that_ be?

I walked down the hall with my heart beating like crazy. What could Chase want to ask me? Jenna stood behind me, not wanting to seem like we were joined at the hip, but close enough to be able to hear everything.

When I got to the living-room Foreman and Cameron had their coats on and were leaving, Mom was at the door saying a proper goodbye. I waved at them and turned my attention to Chase, who seemed to have made himself right at home. He grinned at me like a moron. A very pretty moron.

Dad stood behind him with an inscrutable look on his face. He was keeping secrets.

"So Robert, what did you want to ask me?" I took a deep breath. I have no idea what I was hoping for.

"I'm selling my car," he said. He might as well have said, "_I'm eating lima beans_," for all the sense it made.

"Um. Okay. Congratulations," I waited for more of an explanation. Then Jenna squeed. I gave it at least twenty-seconds. Then I put it together. "Wait. You're selling your car…to _m_e?" I looked at Dad, who continued to be unreadable and then to Mom who was smiling. Then _I_ squeed. Then I remembered. Chase drives a Honda. "Oh. A grocery-getter."

"Don't be like that. It gets thirty miles to the gallon," he actually had the nerve to brag about that.

Dad stepped in, "Here's the deal. You buy Chase's car and that's what you drive for the next two years. You can go to and from the hospital, and to other places only with our permission. When you turn eighteen, you can trade this car in and buy whatever you want, with your own money. Fair?"

I stood there. I couldn't complain about Chase's car really. While it would never turn anyone's head, it was certainly reliable transportation. It had a moon roof. And cup holders. "What kind of stereo does it have?"

He thought about it for a minute, "factory. But there's a CD player."

Beggars couldn't be choosers. "Okay, that seems fair." We all made plans to meet again in the daylight so that I could drive it, have it looked over by a mechanic and basically do all that boring stuff adults do to prevent you from taking the keys and driving off into the night.

An excruciating three days later, after Dad made me wait while the dealer checked it out, I was finally able to drive the car. I mean, it's still my money I'm spending. Chase brought it over and I got in the driver's seat. At first I thought Dad was going to make me drive around with Chase. Like I could concentrate if that happened.

I fiddled with knobs until I was comfortable behind the wheel. I tried to recline the seat back, but Dad gave me the hairy eye-ball, so I put it up straight again. I had started the engine and was about to back it up out of the driveway, when I saw Dad fiddling with the stereo.

"Just wait a minute. This is your first drive in your first car. It has to be special." He slid a CD into the changer and advanced the tracks. The familiar tune washed over us.

I rolled my eyes. "Springsteen?" Could he _be_ any more of a cliché?

"This is _our_ song." _Barroom eyes shine vacancy, to see her you've got to look hard_. 'For You.' It's one of his earliest songs; I think Dad was about my age when it came out, maybe younger. When I was really little he taught me the words and he'd take me for drives out at the shore. It's very complex and to a little kid it was just abstract. But he found humor in my lisping attempts to say, '_Who am I to ask you to lick my sores_…' Dad finds humor in the most inappropriate places.

I'm not a practiced driver. I still have to think about everything. Dad was pretty cool about it though. He didn't try to use the passenger-side breaks or anything like that. We went around the neighborhood a few times. "So what do you think?" He asked as I pulled back into the driveway.

"I like it. Is it a fair price?" I hadn't really bothered to check. I didn't think that Chase was going to try and profit or anything, but I still would have preferred a Jeep Liberty for the money I was spending.

"Very fair." Dad said, extricating himself from the passenger side.

"Would you buy it if you were me?" I asked. Dad will never lie to me.

"Yes. Not just because it's the only car we'll let you have." He nodded at Chase and went into the house.

I didn't want to get out of it just yet. It was full of gas and it looked like it had been detailed. It even smelled nice. A combination of Chase's cologne and upholstery shampoo. Chase opened the door and climbed in. "Where are we going?" He asked.

"Are we going somewhere?" Sometimes he acts just like kids my age. I have to remind myself that he's too old for me. Much too old for me. Practically my Dad's age. Oh, but look how pretty. Damn.

"Yeah. How about the shore? I miss the ocean." He had been smiling, but now he seemed melancholy.

I put it in reverse and backed out slowly. "I'm not driving on the expressway." Bruce was still wailing in the background, "Asbury Park okay?

"Sure." He stared out the window.

"Are you sad about selling your car?" I mean, it still seemed new, it was only a couple of years old.

"No. It's a car. Besides, I have my new car now." He didn't seem to be all that excited about it.

"What did you get?" I asked to be polite.

"Another Honda." He would. Rich and beautiful. He should have a car to match.

"How come? You could have bought a great car. A Lexus. Or a Mercedes. Maybe one of those little ones, with a moon roof that takes up the whole top of the car." I kind of drifted there for a minute.

He shook his head. "I don't need that. It's just transportation."

"I don't understand. Cars are so incredibly interesting. The new Passat has a glove box that's also a fridge. How cool is that? The VW Bug has a bud vase." I started thinking about Volkswagens.

"My parents always had expensive cars." He said that like it was a bad thing. I could tell that he didn't want to talk about it. I knew that his folks had split, that his Mom had substance abuse issues and that his Dad was sick. Funny the stuff you learn about people in the course of normal conversation.

"Oh." I stopped talking to pay attention to my driving. I was actually driving to the beach with Chase. I gulped.

Chase rolled down the window. Then he fiddled with the stereo and tuned in an Alternative radio station. Stars by Switchfoot played and he turned it down. I was just enjoying being happy, then I remembered something. I'm not supposed to be alone with a boy in a car. Crap. "Call my Dad. Tell him where we are."

"What? You're joking aren't you?" He kind of looked like he didn't want to do it.

"No. I'm not." Trust me; I did _not_ want to elaborate.

He reached into his pocket for his phone and dialed. "Just wanted you to know that Kyra and I are going for a drive. No, not far. Okay, no problem." He hung up, "He seems fine with it."

"Really?" That didn't seem right. Wait, he planned this. He threw us together in a romantic setting. That didn't make any sense. Maybe he had absolutely no thoughts about it one way or another. Maybe he just teased me about Chase to be a big pain. Maybe he had his own life with his own issues. No. He's messing with me.

"Yeah. What's the problem?" He shifted in the seat and adjusted the tension on the seatbelt.

"Didn't want him to worry. Plus you know how strict they are." He worked for my Dad; it didn't take much of an imagination to understand how protective my parents are.

"You should appreciate that." Again, he seemed to drift to another place and time.

"I do." Actually, I really do appreciate my folks. I'd hate to be one of those kids whose parents let them go running all over creation. You know, the type that let their daughters go on Spring Break and end up in videos showing their goodies to perverts. "That's why I had you call. Ever been tracked down by a trooper?"

"No. Would House really do that?" He regarded me warily.

"I don't know, and I don't want to find out." We had pulled into the town and found the road that ran alongside the beach. There were a few people out on a chilly weeknight evening. It wasn't yet daylight savings time, so the sky was fading red to orange to yellow on the horizon. "Are we getting out, or did you just want to cruise?" I wouldn't have objected to just cruising. Driving the Honda was fun.

"Let's get out for a minute." He said. I tried to find a place to park.

"You want to walk on the Boardwalk, or would you rather go to Sunset Avenue beach?" On one hand, if we went to the boardwalk, there would be things to do. On the other, I'd be all alone with him on the beach.

"The beach sounds nice; I'm not in the mood for crowds." I'm pretty sure he was thinking about that nasty Howard Johnson's.

I found parking and we started walking. I wanted to hold his hand but put both of mine in my pea coat pockets. He seemed so disconnected; I thought I might be able to anchor him or something. As we approached the water, I could hear the surf and smell the fresh air. Make all the jokes about New Jersey that you want, it was a beautiful night.

Chase made his way to the shoreline. It was easier to walk on the wet, compacted sand. As we moved away from the street and its lights, it became darker. I had been trying to find sand dollars, but I gave it up and instead concentrated on keeping up with Chase, who was trotting at the water's edge.

Finally, I stopped and let him go. I found a dry place to sit where I could watch him pace back and forth. There wasn't much of a moon. It gave me the feeling of ownership. The water, the sand, that dune, those rocks. Mine, all mine. That guy with the breeze in his blond hair and the snug fitting jeans. Not mine. Not even close.

After about ten minutes, he waved and made his way over to me. "Sorry. I didn't mean to abandon you." He extended a hand to help me to my feet.

I couldn't think of anything to say, so I smiled at him and we slowly walked back in the other direction. "So, how come you don't have a boyfriend?"

I gasped. It seemed to have come out of left field. "Excuse me?" I was not addled enough to believe that he was hitting on me.

"You're pretty, you're smart." He gave me a look. I have no idea how to interpret it. Was it possible that he was interested in me? _That _way?

"I'm not exactly in an environment that lends itself to dating." Seemed kind of obvious to me.

"True. I guess you're not going to meet anyone at work. But your friend, she seems to know lots of people." He smiled at me, encouraging me to talk about it. I _so_ did not want to have this conversation with him. It was too comfortable.

"Jenna is wise beyond her years when it comes to boys. No question. She's setting me up with some music prodigy this weekend." I turned my palms up. I mean, really, what's _that_ going to be? "So what about you? Why aren't you married? Aren't you nearly thirty?"

He sighed, "Married? I can't even find a girlfriend."

"Not for nothing, but if you can't find a girlfriend; there's no hope for any of us, anywhere." Don't you _hate_ when you say what you're thinking?

He laughed. "What do you mean by that?" He turned those eyes on me again. I'm sorry, but he shouldn't be allowed to do that. I only have enough strength to deny myself physical gratification for so long. I stopped walking.

"What do you _think_? Robert, you are probably one of the prettiest, nicest guys I know." I couldn't say any more than that. I just knew I'd say something humiliating.

He reached for my hand and before he could catch it a small spark of static electricity snapped between us. I least I _think_ it was static electricity.

"I'm not thirty." He said simply.

"Okay." I agreed.

"I mean, yes, I'm older than you are, but…no, I guess it doesn't make a difference." Now he was the one not saying things.

"Yeah, bad timing huh?" We had stopped on the beach. No matter where you looked, all you could see was more beach. The road seemed far off in the distance.

"Maybe not." He moved in closer and took the lapels of my coat in his hands. Thank God it was dark because I flushed a lovely shade of crimson. Then he stopped and stepped back.

For about the millionth time in my life, I cursed the fact that I wasn't an adult. When I am officially an adult I am going do everything that I'm not allowed to do now, starting with kissing beautiful men. It's so frustrating being me.

"I really am immature." I admitted.

"I keep forgetting. You don't think like it, you don't act like it and you don't look like it," he said, pushing a piece of hair off of my face. I think I'm going to just faint right now. Wouldn't that be romantic?

"I keep forgetting too, that's the problem. I'm in an adult world so much of the time." I wanted to reach up and move a piece of hair off of his face; make him feel faint.

"So what do we do?" I could tell he wanted to do something.

"About what?" I was confused.

"I like hanging out with you, but right now it's not really…"

"I like hanging out with you too. Your contract's good for another couple of years, right?"

"Yes. What are you getting at?"

"Well, I've got to cram a bunch of experience in the next two years. I've got a prom to attend and immature boys to kiss. We could make a date for two years from now." He had the funniest look on his face, "if we're still single I mean."

"You think that you're going get all the experience you need in the next two years?" We had reached the car. He instinctively reached for his keys, but of course, I had them.

"Probably not, but I'm sure you can fill in any gaps. Besides, we can still be friends until then. I can tell you about my dates. You can tell me about yours." I couldn't stand it anymore. I hugged him tight. I pressed my face into his chest, just to get a whiff of him. It was completely cheesy, I know.

I felt his arms go around me and we stood that way for what seemed like an instant and an eternity. "What are we going to tell your folks?"

I giggled into his hideous checked shirt. "I have a wicked plan, but I bet you don't have the balls for it."

He laughed at my laugh. "What?"

"We should flirt madly with each other. Oh, and be touchy-feely too." I explained.

"Don't we do that already?" He pulled my hair playfully. I think he was playing with my curls. They're pretty springy.

"We don't do it in front of Mom. She'll kill you. We do it in front of Dad. We'll drive him nuts!" I giggled some more. Not so much because the plan was so funny; but because I just _had_ to giggle. Giddy, I think it's called. I popped open the locks, "let's get a burger. I'm _starving_."

Maybe I didn't have to wait until I was twenty-two after all.

**Author's Note**: I would like to thank Honda Corporation of America for making a damn fine automobile. I would like to thank my Archaeology teacher in college for grabbing my lapels like that. It's a move that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I would like to thank the state of California for having gorgeous coast lines where one can walk on cold autumn evenings and have conversations with guys one has lustful feelings for. I especially recommend the beaches in Capitola, Santa Cruz and Castroville.


End file.
